


Aftermath

by Artistic_Gamer



Series: Izuku haunts class 1-A [12]
Category: BnHA, Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia, mha
Genre: Bakugo does his best to unwind after that shitshow, Character Death Implied/Mentioned, Ghost!Midoriya, Midoriya haunts 1-A, Midoriya is a worried boio, Midoriya takes Bakugo’s advice, One-Shot, Other, bakugo is Sad Panda, everybody as usual, is Shigaraki okay, or is it part three? idk this boy needs a hug, part two electric boogaloo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23023819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artistic_Gamer/pseuds/Artistic_Gamer
Summary: After the USJ, Katsuki uses the rest of the day off to process what happened, and maybe unwind a little.
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Izuku & Bakugo Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku & Class 1-A
Series: Izuku haunts class 1-A [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553269
Comments: 96
Kudos: 2515





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> once again, I am back!! ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶  
> this may seem like Aizawa’s been left behind or won’t be mentioned, but don’t worry!! he’s here, just not in the beginning :D
> 
> also really quick for those who don’t know, Shiritori is a japanese game where you take an ending letter of a word and use it as a beginning of a new one, so if I said ‘drawer’ you could say ‘ruler’ or ‘rubber’. the game is technically a bit more complicated than that, but I narrowed down the rules for simplicity’s sake
> 
> thanks so much for the love on this series, I’m pumped you all are enjoying it (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)ᕤ so sit back, make yourselves some tea with me, and enjoy the ride!!

Katsuki slapped his mother’s panicked hands away from his injured bicep, insisting he was  _ fine. _

He wanted to lay down and sleep for the next two days, and he felt a bit dizzy from the emergency blood transfusion they had to give him, but Katsuki was sure it wasn’t anything a day or two of rest wouldn’t fix. Really, the only problem he had now was the fact that his bicep was branded with the fucker’s handprint. That didn’t sit well with him, and if he ever saw the bastard again he would make sure to blast the villain into  _ outer space. _

His mother wouldn’t quit her hovering, and he was too tired to outright argue with her - something he was sure was only making her worry more - so the second they got home and she demanded he went to bed and rest, Katsuki obeyed. He settled down under the covers immediately, but he resisted the urge to pass out. 

He laid down in the silence, staring up at the ceiling with a flat expression for a while. 

Then it all rushed in. 

Villains had broken into the USJ with the intent to kill. It didn’t matter who, Katsuki knew, it could’ve been anyone.

That hideous motherfucker of a  _ beast _ that was standing by the hand bastard’s side was burned behind his eyes, with its brain exposed and too wide of a mouth. 

Everyone had been ripped from each other and scattered to the winds. Katsuki was lucky enough to meet up with Kirishima, and the extra eyes and strength helped him calm down however slightly, breathe in deeply and take a second to assess where they were, what was happening. 

Then they heard a scream. It tore through the air and their eardrums. Katsuki and Kirishima had to cover their ears, lest they’d suffer a sharp pain. It faded out eventually, and all it took was a look between the pair before they rushed off for the source. 

Katsuki had approached the scene to see what the villain had called “Nomu” standing there, posture tense and waiting, while the villain himself had seemed disoriented and dazed. Katsuki had seen an opportunity to attack and he took it. The second he had gotten close though, that bastard had grabbed him, and the searing pain as his flesh dissolved and chipped off had rendered Katsuki immobile for a few seconds. The Nomu had taken a swing, and Katsuki was sure, in those couple of seconds, that he was going to die. 

His heart began to pound in his chest, and he clutched his bicep with shaking fingers, his teeth grit against the burning in his eyes as the fear of what he’d just been through finally caught up to him properly. He sucked in a shaky breath and hoped his mother wouldn’t just barge in. 

He lay in the dark, attempting to keep quiet and regain his composure. A soft, quiet tapping at his desk made him jump, and his head swiveled over to the noise as hope made his chest swell. 

Deku was stuck at U.A, right? But maybe...

_...Deku? _

There was a moment of silence, and Katsuki’s heart sank before a more deliberate tapping permeated above his head and through the wall. Deku murmured for a moment, then quieted.

Relief crashed over him like a wave. He swallowed hard, his eyes burning.

Everything in him wanted to just sit down and chat with his childhood friend. It was a feeling he hadn’t truly had in a long time, but it was there, simmering in his gut and sealing his throat closed. But it didn’t matter, Deku couldn’t speak, too broken and twisted to be heard correctly. 

_ I wish you could just fucking talk to me, _ he whispered, a wave of sorrow washing over him.  _ Please, say something. _

Deku muttered louder, more pointed, clearly an attempt that didn’t work.

_ Deku, _ he begged the empty air, wrapping his arms around himself as a few tears managed to escape. His skin itched. It was hard to breathe around the tightness in his chest. _ Give me anything. _

Katsuki waited, listening hard for any sound that could count as a word. 

Something flickered next to his desk. He lifted his head, and watched as a pencil floated up like it was attached to an invisible string, angling itself as if someone was holding it. 

Katsuki tore out from underneath the covers and over to his desk, clutching the back of his chair in a white knuckled grip as he watched the pencil quiver in the air, unstable. It wrote out something, then clattered to the desk, still once more. 

Katsuki sobbed, gripping the notebook so hard he crushed the pages as he sank to the floor. 

The pencil had written out ‘I am here!’ in Deku’s handwriting, shaky and barely legible, but Katsuki could recognize it anywhere, the obsessed fucker.

The blonde sat and cried, feeling something gently pat at his back as he let out everything he’d been bottling up.

Tomura couldn’t keep his eyes open. Everything felt sluggish and blurry, like a movie playing at half speed through a dirty window. A pulsing migraine was wreaking havoc on his already tender head. 

The lights in Kamino were so bright. So, so bright.

Hands were touching him, his wrists, briefly against his temple before Tomura hissed in pain, and at the back of his neck. Words were being spoken. Tomura was too tired to listen, too tired to care. 

He fell unconscious.

The day was a much needed blessing. 

They were off from school to recuperate, and Katsuki took advantage of the opportunity. He lounged around and ate comfort foods to his heart’s content, ignoring his father’s gentle reminders about his diet and deafening himself to his mother’s screeching. Katsuki could take a cheat day, and besides, his comfort foods weren’t  _ unhealthy _ like the hag’s choice of chocolate and sweets. 

Deku was still with him, serving as something of an anchor. Whenever Katsuki called out for him, he would respond in soft tapping or murmurs, and Katsuki wouldn’t lie to himself and say it wasn’t a comfort. 

Very quickly, he found himself becoming restless with so little to do.

Katsuki attempted a game with Deku in order to keep himself from thinking too hard about everything and spiraling into another panic. It was a non verbal game of Shiritori, really. Katsuki kick started the game in his room, tapping the desk and saying to thin air,  _ Shiritori. Desk,  _ before stomping out, walking into the living room and plopping onto the couch. Deku took the challenge as expected, and he felt a tapping at his shoulder. It took Katsuki a minute to get it, but when he did he quietly scoffed, muttering  _ cheater _ under his breath, but later he obediently tapped twice on an ice cube floating about in his drink. 

The real trick about the game was making sure he wasn’t caught acting oddly by his parents. Deku hadn’t revealed himself to them and didn’t seem like he was going to, and Katsuki understood fully. But that also meant it would just seem like Katsuki was snickering or grinning to thin air, or randomly tapping on any object he got close to, so he had to lay low. Deku wasn’t free of this either, since if his parents noticed a sound coming from an object no one was touching, his mother in particular might burn the house down. It was surprisingly fun, and most importantly, it was an amazing distraction.

The game was also lightening his mood considerably. There was a point where Deku was struggling to find something to combat his word of  _ cup, _ but Katsuki realized afterward that it wasn’t the word that was giving Deku issues, it was figuring out how to tap on what he wanted without his parents noticing. In the end, Deku’s efforts were futile. 

They were seated at the table for dinner, his parents talking about dumb shit that Katsuki had immediately tuned out in favor of their game. There was a quiet moment, and Deku apparently chose that moment to tap three times on his father’s plate. The noise was loud enough for him to hear, and it made his father lift up his plate of food to check under it for the noise, as well as under the table, confusion plastered all over his face. He ended up sitting down and dismissing it, and Katsuki had to pretend to drink his water to hide his snickering.

His parents seemed to quit their hovering when his mood lightened, and the new freedom made the last bit of tension melt away, in himself and the household. 

Except Deku. He was nervous about something, anxious, Katsuki could tell. His focus wasn’t fully in the game like Katsuki was, his attention would drift while Katsuki figured out what word to play and the atmosphere would go from playful to uneasy, and now more than ever did Katsuki wish he had the EMF thing. When things settled in the house, Deku’s nerves only became more obvious, but Katsuki wasn’t too sure what to do about it other than use their game as a distraction not just for himself, but Deku too.

He wondered if it had to do with Aizawa. They seemed close, and the man had often been a third party to Katsuki and Deku’s after school talks. He was worried about the man too, if he was honest. Aizawa had looked like shit when he was hauled away. At some point he got tired of Deku’s sulking, so once he was safe in his room again, Katsuki tried to tell Deku that Aizawa was a strong bastard and there was no question the man would make it. It wasn’t accepted as quickly as Katsuki hoped. 

He’d visit Aizawa, but he had no idea what hospital he was put in, nor did he know if his parents would let him step out of the house on his own at this point. So he stood strong for his - his  _ friend. _ He kept his head up, steadfast in his belief that Aizawa would be fine and aggressively pretending that everything was normal. Deku reluctantly followed his example, but he was still quieter than he ought to be.

Katsuki finally went back to school, a scar the shape of that fucking prick’s hand wrapped around his bicep.

The others gathered around each other, checking in on everyone’s health and talking about what happened yesterday. His own little posse gathered around his desk like kicked puppies, asking if he was okay and if the wound scarred. He showed them the handprint with a scowl, and Kirishima determinedly declared  _ We’ll make that jerk regret messing with us! _ His statement got cheers and whoops, and he agreed wholeheartedly with the statement. The fucker was going  _ down. _

Conversation lasted a little longer until glasses told them all to take a seat, and Katsuki could feel the buzz of Deku’s unease, getting some others to ask Deku if he was doing alright. Katsuki snapped out that Deku was worried about the old man, but he had been  _ trying _ to say that the bastard would be fine, shooting round face a pointed look. She brightened with understanding and fist pumped the air, cheerfully agreeing. The class joined in with quick optimism. 

Deku still didn’t seem right, and it was finally making Katsuki nervous. If he didn’t have a solid reason to believe Aizawa wasn’t okay, the topic would’ve been dropped a while ago. 

No. The old man was fine, he  _ knew _ he was fine. Aizawa had too much spite in him to go out like that.

Still, Katsuki waited to see who would be teaching class today on pins and needles. 

He didn’t  _ really _ think Aizawa would show, so when the man himself walked through the door, covered from head to foot in bandages, Katsuki wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or rally the students to  _ march _ his ass back to whatever hospital bed he crawled out of.

Deku, however, started to cry. Soft, hitching sobs of relief and nothing else. No moving window panes, no flickering lights, just his crying that echoed around the room. It reminded Katsuki of middle school, of Deku chasing him around with a wobbly, hopeful smile, and Katsuki’s chest clenched as memories rushed back to him. 

Katsuki saw Aizawa look around, as if he was deliberately searching for something, before his gaze zeroed in behind ponytail. He took in a sharp breath of surprise, but when Katsuki turned around to see what Aizawa was looking at, it was just an empty corner. He wondered if Aizawa hit his head a little too hard as their teacher slowly lowered himself into the seat at his desk, taking in whatever it was he thought he was seeing.

_ I’m fine, _ Aizawa finally said once he had gathered himself, muffled through the bandages. Almost addressing the corner itself.  _ Do you need a minute? _

Deku’s breath hitched and hiccuped as a response, and a quick scan of the classroom revealed that others were starting to get teary eyed themselves at the display of affection and relief. Even  _ Eyebags _ looked softer than normal, and when Katsuki turned in his seat to scoff at him the purple haired bastard had the gall to simply shrug. 

The students began to soothe him on their own, some talking about what they did on their day off as a distraction while others tried pulling funny faces and cracking jokes. Deku’s crying slowed to sniffles, then turned into quiet, tired giggling. Katsuki was thankful for it. 

_ There’s no time to relax, _ Aizawa said, pulling the attention back to himself once he was sure Deku had calmed down.  _ Your struggles aren’t over. The Sports Festival is almost here. _

Katsuki tilted his chin up, determination thrumming in his veins. He could feel a similar strength from the rest of the students. 

He had made it through that shit show. How bad could the Sports Festival be?

**Author's Note:**

> heh ;D
> 
> next up: Aizawa’s perspective ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ


End file.
